Along the Road
by Confiscated Retina
Summary: Small vignettes from a life not meant to be. Follows "Until the End". Chell/human Wheatley.
1. She

**A/N:** Just a little bit of fluff I couldn't help but write after seeing the short fan film "Outside Aperture". As always, thank you all for the wonderful reviews and feedback on "Until the End"! This story has come to mean more to me than I expected and seeing it touch so many people really touches me in ways I can't put into words. Thank you all!

I'm not sure how many more of these little vignettes there may or may not be, but it didn't feel right to jam them into UTE after it had concluded.

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**She**

She smells terrible on hot days and her clothes are frayed and filthy. She jumps at certain small noises, throwing her hands up as if she still had a gun to shoot an escape route with. If he comes up behind her without warning she lashes out (but she's always sorry after). Sometimes at night he wakes up to see her wide-eyed and shaking, seeing cold walls instead of the place they are sleeping in. She loves anything that looks like cake or tastes like it but the word itself makes her skin crawl.

She laughs without a sound when she runs barefoot down an empty road. Her hair is matted and tangled but it streams out behind her like a flag in the wind. Under the travel dirt, her skin is soft and warm. She doesn't make a sound but the breath catching in her throat when she arcs against him always leaves him reeling.

She's broken and funny and strange.

She is everything he lives for.


	2. Again

**A/N:** This one goes out to the lovely Sakura who sent me Vera Lynn's "We'll Meet Again" and inspired this bit.

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**Again**

"One year, two hundred fifty-seven days, three hours, eighteen minutes."

His voice, choked and hoarse, startles her from sleep. She rolls over to see him staring wide-eyed out of the guard shack window, the moon shining on his face. He doesn't seem to notice her until she puts a hand to his cheek, at which he whimpers and curls around himself. Her fingers come away wet.

"Oh, it's just you," he rasps. "I'm not in space, then?"

She cups her hand around his cheek, smiling in the dark.

"Right. That...That was a dream, was it?"

He can't hide the tremble in his voice, doesn't even try. She curls around him, wrapping his head and shoulders in her warmth, shielding him from the night sky. She strokes his hair and holds him as tight as she can without hurting him any further. Her shirt is damp when he can finally speak again.

"One year, two hundred fifty-seven days, three hours, eighteen minutes. It's...it's how long I was out...there. Before _she_ pulled me back and...and did this..."

It's not the first time she wishes she could say something comforting. Carefully, firmly, she presses his ear against her chest.

"I'm so sorry," he chokes. "You, what I did...it's all I could think about up there."

Before he can start browbeating himself again she presses her lips into his hair, patting his cheek firmly. She forgives him and he has enough on his shoulders without carrying this. He sniffles and listens to her beating heart filling the silence. Once in a while he sniffles or whispers something about not being in space anymore. He drifts off again and she follows soon after, his breath warm and moist on her skin.


	3. Be More

**A/N: **This was originally going to be a steamy chapter, but that's been pushed back a little bit by a kindly anon who linked me to "Be Human" by Scott Matthew from _Ghost in the Shell_. The song was so sweet that it completely derailed me and I had to write a bit of fluff. So thank you anon for that lovely song and the insulin shot I'm going to need now! :D

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**Be More**

Rain is drumming on the old house roof. Every drop makes him cringe. He focuses on the shape of her leaning in the open doorway, silhouetted against gray and green. The day is still warm and he feels hot and sticky in his clothes. Suddenly she stands up straight, flashes him a grin, and dashes out into the downpour.

"What are you doing?" he yelps, leaping for the door but stopping just at the edge, shaking.

She's sprinting through the rain, arms flung out like a bird trying to fly. He watches her do a graceful cartwheel or two, skip barefoot through the green grass, then leap as high as she can into a puddle. Water plumes around her and for a moment time freezes on her smiling face, dripping and joyous. When she sees him watching she waves enthusiastically for him to come join her.

"Uh, no thanks!" he calls, hunching into the door.

Her disappointed look makes him reconsider and, hesitantly, he sticks a hand out into the wet only to snatch it back. There doesn't appear to be any damage but one can never be too careful. Cool wet fingers wrap around his arm and she's grinning up at him through her sodden black hair. Slowly she pulls his arm out into the rain and refuses to let go when he tries to pull back. Keeping his focus on her, he shuffles into the grass until he's all the way out, standing hunched in the downpour.

"Well. Now what?" She slaps him gently on the arm and bounces away, looking over her shoulder expectantly. "Hey, don't leave me here!"

They play tag in the rain. When he slides on the grass and falls in a puddle she laughs so hard she winds up sitting in it with him. That smile is worth any number of soaked jumpsuits, he decides. He loses track of time as she jumps in puddles with him and tries to teach him how to do a cartwheel.

The rain begins to slack off and the sun peeks past the clouds while they lie panting in the grass together, still grinning. She sits up and points frantically at an arc of colors against the sky.

"Wow," he breathes. "Beautiful."

He isn't looking at the rainbow.


	4. Fire and Water

**A/N:** I didn't forget about this fic! :D I can no longer remember the song that originally have me this idea, but the lovely Kiran/Sakura sent it to me, so she gets credit for this chapter. Also, here is some of that steamy fun I promised.

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**Fire and Water**

Rain is one thing, a river is entirely another.

She seems just as excited over this gently moving puddle as she was over the rain, kneeling beside it to scoop cold water into her mouth and even stick her face in it. He blanches at the sight and takes a few more steps back. Wading calf-deep into the water, she turns and waves at him to follow. He steps back again.

Something wicked sparks in her eyes and sends a delicious shiver down his spine. Smirking, she deftly pulls her shirt off and tosses it to the grass at his feet. His toes curl reflexively and her orange jumpsuit lands heavily on top of the shirt.

"You're not!" he yelps as she wades deeper. "This is absolutely not fair!"

She gives him a coy look over one brown shoulder before the regulation boxers come off. A strangled noise escapes his throat as they slap against his chest before falling to the ground. Her hips disappear beneath the water and she doesn't even look back as the last article of clothing lands on his head.

The day is already warm but it quickly becomes unbearable in the best way. He watches droplets coalesce on her skin after she splashes herself. They shimmer and slide down her body, tracing curves he barely knows with an intimacy that makes him jealous. His knees are already weak and he stumbles when she turns around, his mouth agape. She's pale and soft-looking where the fabric usually covers her. He finds one foot inexplicably in the cold water, uncertain as to how he got so close to it with such speed, and backs away again.

Laughing with her eyes, she slides down and vanishes beneath the surface. His panic evaporates before it can form when she comes back up, wet hair sticking to her skin in a way that leaves his mouth dry. She makes an unzipping gesture he can barely focus on and quirks her fingers, commanding him to join her.

"You're a wicked woman, do you know that?" he says, fumbling with his own clothes.

Her response is to lay her chin on her hands, an innocent look on her face, her wet breasts pressed together between her arms. One leg still in his jumpsuit, he makes an incomprehensible noise from his seat in the grass. She grins while he struggles out of his remaining garments, trying not to catch his boxers on the one part that has comically leapt to attention when he was too busy watching her. He takes a few shaky steps until he stands ankle-deep in the water.

"Right, I'm in," he grins hopefully. "That's good enough, I'd say. Exactly what you wanted. And now I'm going to get...back...out..."

Like some sort of big cat she moves slowly toward him, a devious smirk playing around her mouth. He is powerless to move when she puts a cool, wet hand on his chest and presses herself against him. When that same hand slides down, lending some of its coolness to the hottest part of him, he squeaks like a mouse.

With one hand on his hip and the other in firm possession of his most delicate part she guides him deeper into the water and he barely even notices. The contrast between her hot tongue against one nipple and the cool water lapping at his thighs coaxes a shivering groan out of him. Using her free hand she places his palm against one breast, giving him permission to touch while she runs her nails down his hip, her fingers wandering between his legs from behind. He is momentarily distracted by her breasts, their pert nipples pressing into his palms. When she moves her hands just so he twitches, hands gently clenching and lifting of their own accord, and her smile widens.

He has completely forgotten about the water, all of his senses wrapped up in her soft skin, fresh smell, the motion of her cool hands drawing sweet fire to his surface. She follows his rhythm, hands moving in time to the soft moans he breathes into her wet hair. He stands closer to her than he's ever been and it feels right to have her pressed against him. She bites one of his nipples and it's the final spark that sets his world ablaze, a hoarse cry echoing off the water.

When he comes back she's holding him upright, grinning into his chest. Looking down, past his shaking hands still cupped around her breasts, he sees something on her belly that isn't water. An embarrassed flush colors his cheeks.

"Oh, ah, sorry..." she shrugs and shifts, letting the water wash it away.

Water...he's waist deep in water. The realization that it's not so bad after all doesn't quite drown out his indignation and he tries to glare at her smug expression. As always, he can't summon any true resentment towards her and winds up chuckling instead.

"How do you keep doing this to me?" he asks rhetorically (because he knows exactly how this particular goddess works this particular worshiper).

Grinning, she shrugs and claps her wet hands over his, pinning his palms against her flesh, and backs away, leading him deeper into the river.


	5. He

**A/N: **This isn't how I would have liked it to end, but it really was inevitable. Words could never express my gratitude to all of you for reading these fics and inspiring me to write so much. Thank you guys!

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**He**

She smells terrible and the day is hot. Her clothes are frayed and filthy. There are small noises everywhere that used to make her jump and yesterday she was looking for an escape route, wishing there was still a gun to make a hole she could crawl out through. He counted stars and held her hand until the night was more quiet than she'd ever heard it.

The shovel stands tall in the fresh-turned earth, the only marker she can leave him. A hot breeze rustles the wheat, brushing against a face lined with years and toying with hair more gray than black. Unchanged, the shed in the middle of the wheat beckons to her and she is not surprised to see a lift waiting inside. She does not look back as the door slams behind her.

There are no words passed between them when they meet again in _her_ chamber. Perhaps the machine feels sorry in her own way, but it doesn't matter. Both know why she is back and it seems fitting.

Her legs are still strong, feet toughened by the years. A distant memory of antiseptic rooms with smudges of mold between the panels flits through her mind but she can't bring herself to care. She suspects things have been rearranged when she comes to an unmarked but familiar wooden door far sooner than expected. The room inside is fresh and new, the carpet soft under foot and the sheets on the bed crisp. There is no television or painting on the wall, just a radio on the nightstand.

Settling into the mattress, she turns the radio on to hear a song she's only heard once before. She doesn't understand the words but she suspects that, as it was in the past, this is a good-bye. She presses her fingers to her lips and then to the radio's smooth surface.

_Thank you._

Looking up at the blank ceiling, waiting, the tears begin to fall. It's only been half a day. She didn't know until now that he was what she lived for.

Over the pounding in her ears she can hear a gentle hiss. Her mind grows foggy and her body begins to weigh her down. As she slips into what feels like sleep, she sees his face once more and smiles.


End file.
